Inevitably it happens. It sneaks up unaware. I find myself in a situation, surrounded by other mothers, and I lament internally, why can’t I be like that?! The perfect mother.
I’ll see the crafty mom, the one who does projects with their kids daily. I’ll grimace at the fact that most days it’s all I can do to make it through the fundamentals, and the thought of extra art time is exhausting.
Why can’t I be like that?
I’ll see the mom who’s always on time. I’m not even sure what that means. With each child I’ve added, I’ve lost five minutes of each hour, and fashionably late is my new M.O.
Why can’t I be like that?
I’ll see the cool, collected mom who never yells. I, on the other hand, end at least one day a week in tears and prayers to the Lord to help me be a better, more patient mother.
Why can’t I be like that?
I’ll see the mom who loves all the parties, field trips, and extracurriculars. Meanwhile, I’m dragging a flipping-out four year old by the hand, holding a dangerously curious toddler like a sack of potatoes on my hip, and I’m gritting my teeth and whispering to self, can I leave yet, can I leave yet. I just don’t always enjoy peopling.
